Unavoidably
by JazzyLittleMonster
Summary: Marisa sees Asriel for the first time since she refused to marry him. Four years after Lyra's birth. Two parts.
1. Part One

Unavoidably

Sometimes her golden monkey still pines for him. They'll see him in a newspaper, or hear his name in scandalized whispers at the other end of a dinner table, and the monkey will make a little involuntary noise and become implacably agitated and start tearing at something; the newspaper, a napkin, the beads at the hem of her skirt.

She saw Stelmaria several months ago. She was following Lord Boreal to his private library near Jordan College, eager to see his latest archaeological acquisition, and the diamond-white fur caught her eye. She knew instantly, of course. Just a glimmer flashing past, powerful slender shoulders pushing through a doorway and the swish of a proud tail as the snow leopard followed her other half into the grounds of Jordan. But her stomach dropped to the floor and she had to fist her hand in her monkey's golden fur to stop him darting after her. He hissed and spat with frustration, but she didn't let him go until they were inside Boreal's study. When he set about charming and stroking the man's daemon, he nearly strangled the poor wretch.

She is with Boreal now. They are sat at the high table of a Consistorial Court function, her second engagement of the night and seventh of the week. Next to her is an empty seat, where the President should be. There is a slight murmur about this amongst the guests, as they are now well into the second course of the dinner and he has been absent since the start of the evening. She is not particularly interested in their gossip, it bores her; the whole evening bores her. Though she is aware, as always, of the number of eyes on her, male and female, and, as always, she gets a small thrill from that.

Suddenly a flurry of activity at the great hall's entrance draws everyone's attention. Her golden monkey digs his little clawed hands into her shoulder. She looks up, drops her fork and can hardly swallow her mouthful of steak. The President staggers backwards, purple in the face and spitting everywhere as he shouts furiously at his antagonist. Lord Asriel advances on him in strides, also shouting passionately, Stelmaria snarling and snapping at the President's hissing spitting lizard which scuttles frantically to avoid her furious jaws.

"I will not stand for it! You are committing a serious offence against the Magisterium! You are a danger to the citizens of this world and every other!"

"Frankly, MacPhail, it is irrelevant what you will or will not stand! You have no idea! No idea!"

"I have no idea?! _I_?! You are an ignorant, arrogant…"

The President doesn't get to finish, because the shocked gasp as he crashes into a server and sends a tray of pastries flying jolts the two arguing parties out of their heated debate for a moment as they realise where they are. Lord Asriel draws himself up proudly and Stelmaria retreats from the quivering lizard. They sweep a glance around the room, as if daring anyone to comment on what they've just seen. They pause only for a fraction of a second as they notice Marisa at the high table, but she and the monkey feel it like a jerk of electricity. A second later, without a look or a word to the President, they turn and sweep majestically out of the hall.

The President collects himself slowly, smoothing his hair and brushing the pastry from his robes, and tucking his trembling lizard daemon into his breast pocket. Then he draws himself up, somewhat less impressively than Asriel but with undoubted authority, and makes his way to his seat at the high table. The servers clean the spoiled food away as the slow uncertain murmur of reaction gossip from the guests grows to an animated chatter.

Marisa barely notices the shaken President taking his seat beside her. Her heart is pounding and she feels light headed, as if she's dreaming and everything is not quite real. She'd forgotten what this felt like.

It's been four years since she gave birth to Asriel's child and refused his request of a life together. And not a day since she hasn't imagined what it would have been like if she'd have chosen differently.

She's never regretted her decision, or wished for another chance to make it, because she believes she made entirely the right choice. She overcame a horribly embarrassing social catastrophe quite smoothly, and is proud of the grace and cunning with which she carried herself out of it.

But one thing, the only thing, she can't be sensible about, is him. She can at least exercise enough self control not to throw her life away on him and his child and his insane heretic notions, but whatever else she does, she can never stop loving him. He loves her in the same way, she knows. Unavoidably, though neither one of them is willing to compromise their own lives or beliefs an inch for it. That is why he asked her to marry him and would have spent his life working with her if she'd said yes, but had no problem carrying straight on without her when she said no. That is why she thinks it may be possible to do what she desperately wants to do tonight and walk away with no consequences tomorrow. Her golden monkey twines himself around her neck, almost purring in her ear.

"Shall we?" she whispers.

"Yes, we will" he whispers back, eagerly.

"We will" she agrees, though she doesn't sound certain.


	2. Part Two

Unavoidably

Marisa Coulter is not a woman who can leave a room unnoticed. So she works herself up to a state of distress, quickly and skilfully, in the time it takes for her golden monkey to reach out a sympathetic clawed hand to stroke the lizard's scaly quivering tail as it pokes out from the President's pocket.

"Please excuse me for a moment," Marisa breathes, dabbing at her face with a napkin as convincing tears pool in her impossibly beautiful eyes.

Touched by her distress and almost swooning under the headiness of her benevolent pity, the President's heavy face drifts into an involuntary smile. Marisa stands and leaves the table, taking the napkin to cover her face as she drags up a few delicate sobs for good measure. Her golden monkey stalks after her, barely containing his excitement.

* * *

Lord Asriel marches straight down the corridor of the College of St. Jerome, Stelmaria at his heel and still snarling. They hate coming to Geneva. They already long for the sharp splendour of the North.

"Asriel,"

They both halt instantly when they hear her voice. A shiver runs down his back and Stelmaria's fur bristles; everything about her becomes alert, from the prick of her ears to the erect tip of her tail.

Marisa's breath catches and she smoothes her silk skirt against her thighs. Her false tears are gone and the napkin discarded. When he turns and catches proper sight of her for the first time in four years, Marisa is still the most beautiful woman who has ever existed, and aflame with being near him.

"Marisa," he returns the greeting, feeling the old familiar blissful helplessness begin to pool in his gut and trickle to every part of his body. Stelmaria inclines her head minutely and the golden monkey inches towards her greedily.

"That was quite a display," she is smiling. It would be a wicked smile if it weren't so hungry.

"That was nothing," he replies, drinking her in, "MacPhail, those Bishops, that Court. They're nothing. You know that."

"Of course," she purrs. He is surprised. She used to be vehemently protective of her precious church. Either she has changed since they last spoke or, more likely, she wants something else at this moment, and it serves her purpose to lie.

Lord Asriel is quite confident that what she wants at this moment is him.

"Come with me tonight," it is not so much a question as an acknowledging of their mutual interest and an invitation to make something of it.

Stelmaria circles the golden monkey, whose hard black fingers itch to reach out to her.

"Where are you going?" she asks; considering, wanting.

"Does it matter?" he asks, testing the air, seeing how much she will let him get away with before she turns around and goes back to her Consistorial dinner.

"No," she answers, surprising them both.

In two strides he has her in his arms. Stelmaria pounces on the golden monkey, pinning him to College's stone floor and licking his swooning face. The daemons enjoy their reunion, a rare truly intimate moment for them. Their humans indulge in each other, hungrily, kissing so passionately it leaves them both sloppy and breathless.

Marisa doesn't know that the President is waiting for her return to serve the dessert. After thirty minutes and sending a young priest to search the washroom, he will decide to go ahead and serve it, troubled and mystified by the sweet Mrs Coulter's disappearance.

By the time the Consistorial Court's dinner guests begin their dessert she will be in Asriel's bed on a train to Oxford. They will spend as salacious and spectacular a night together as they ever have done, and will fall together into the most satisfied sleep each of them has had in four years.

The next morning they will wake up, the golden monkey first, entwined in the scruff of soft fur at the base of Stelmaria's neck, closely followed by his other half, sprawled luxuriously across Asriel's chest, his fingers entwined in her golden hair. Marisa will yawn and stretch deliciously, taking the opportunity to rub as much of herself against Asriel as possible. He will open his eyes, slowly remember the night before, and bring her face down to his to kiss her good morning.

They will dress reluctantly and chat over breakfast, easy and light apart from a few tender spots. It will seem blissful for an hour or so, until they pull into Oxford and pass Jordan College, where they will both see a tiny girl with dirty blonde hair and a lively robin daemon standing on a high wall in the soft morning sun, watching the trains, whilst an angry Gyptian nursemaid struggles to climb the wall and reach her.

With some surprise, they will recognise their daughter immediately. A slow hot blush will rise on Marisa's face and she will slip her entwined fingers out of Asriel's. Terrified of feeling guilt or shame, she will try to leave before the feelings catch her. Her golden monkey will cry out in misery as she wrenches him away from his warm nest between Stelmaria's large protective paws.

Asriel will watch her leave, wanting to laugh and to accuse, or to comfort, or to stop her; doing nothing but reaching out to scratch behind Stelmaria's ears as she whines softly. The daemon and human will look out of the window of their train compartment and watch their lovers leave, radiant in the crowd even as they stumble down the platform with tears streaking down their faces.


End file.
